Chapter 9
chapter nine
priscilla
No matter how I was handling my own feelings about my love life or my future, tonight had me feeling grateful.
Tom and Camilo’s wedding had not just been beautiful, but it had been a freaking love fest. It was impossible to be sad in the presence of two people that much in love with each other.
It was also so good to be with family and friends to lift Milo up.
No one deserved a happily ever after more than him.
The guys and Ayako had brought down the house with their adorable and hilarious speech.
Even Milo’s prickly ass hadn’t been able to keep from cackling as they relayed hilarious stories about Camilo’s reputation as the group’s ring leader and all the ways in which they loved him.
For their first dance, Tom actually flew in Juan Luis Guerra, whose music meant so much to both of them, and they danced to “Cuando Te Beso,” as we all basically melted from how monumental it all felt.
It was past midnight and the party was still going strong.
And another one of the merengue bands Tom hired for the wedding had all the Latinx people still going hard on the dance floor.
I’d danced about three songs in a row with my dad and was about to call it quits when I felt someone tap my shoulder.
Before I could turn around, I saw my father’s face light up. “Juan Pablo, you cutting in?”
He moved so he was standing next to my dad, a shy smile on his face, and my traitorous stomach dipped.
He’d been dancing all night, too. With his salsa skills, he was always in high demand at weddings.
At some point he’d unbuttoned his shirt, so I could see just a peek of that chiseled chest I’d been getting eyefuls of all week.
My dad released my hand and looked between the two of us. “Que dices, Pris?” What could I say? No?
I mean, I could but… I may not have wanted to admit it to myself, but I’d kept an eye on him as he’d danced with other partners tonight.
No matter who it was, he was always the one leading; he was a beautiful dancer.
I wanted to dance with Juan Pablo. He knew it, too.
I winked at my dad, trying to keep the mood light and not make this a thing like I seemed to do with everything lately and extended my hand to him.
He took it immediately, as my father clapped a hand on his shoulder and pointed to my mother, who was sitting at our table watching the dance floor with a tired smile. Her gauzy yellow dress hiked up to her knees. “I’m gonna get Maritza and head to the room. You got your key, right?”
I nodded and my dad walked off, leaving me in Juan Pablo’s arms. Just as I was about to make a snarky comment about his dance card finally having an opening, the first notes of “Entre tu Cuerpo y el Mio” started and he and I both stiffened at once.
Of fucking course our old song would start playing the moment we began dancing.
“That’s a throwback.” Juan Pablo wasn’t even trying to sound casual as we started moving.
I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d danced together.
It’d been years, but as soon as he pressed his hand to the small of my back, we were back in sync.
Our feet stepping in unison, hips swaying to the same exact beat.
I closed my eyes, confident in J’s lead as I listened to the singer belt out the lyrics to what had been our anthem.
I felt his grip tighten when she sang about lovers that gave each other their very souls, bodies that fit so perfectly there was no space at all between them when they came together.
He pressed closer and I let him as I mouthed the words from the song, my head thrown back.
I felt his beard brush against my face, as I pressed closer. We were almost the same height but with my heels on, I was just a little bit taller. I smiled at that, because for all his posturing and vanity, Juan Pablo had never cared about that. On the contrary, he loved seeing me in heels.
“How did you enjoy the rest of the night?”
Oh shit. He was going to talk to me then.
Because I wasn’t having enough of a problem not swooning over what his hips were doing or the man sweat and Tom Ford aftershave combo he was rocking right now.
I slowly opened my eyes and he was looking at me expectantly, but again with that sort of zen thing that he had going on these days.
Like he could wait for my answer for as long as I needed.
“It was good.” I shook my head to clear it, because there was a lot going on in there and I’d had quite a few of those signature cocktails. “You have to stop looking at me like that. I let Easton convince me to have a few Henny shots, because he thinks he’s Drake now.”
That only got me another laugh from J and that wide grin that made his dimples pop…fuck. I was weak, and that motherfucker knew right when my defenses were at their lowest, because he put both hands right at my back and pushed in tight. “How am I looking at you?”
I closed my eyes again, breathed in deep, and thanked the universe for my room, which was fully equipped with a set of parents. “You’re looking at me like you want to start something.”
When I opened my eyes, I expected him to be looking at me all seductive and shit, but he wasn’t. He just looked…happy. Before he spoke, he smiled again and my chest tightened. I missed Juan Pablo still, no matter what happened. I missed him, and not just as a lover, but as a friend.
“I mean, I’m not going to lie. I’d love to start something with you, but I’m not going to push. I told you the last time, Pris. I don’t want to wreck things.”
That was another thing that the new Juan Pablo did, he talked. Shared his feelings openly. The song ended and the new one was an old bolero. One of those old ones that Luis Miguel had brought back in the `90s and my mom had played 24/7 for months.
“Damn that’s old old school.” Juan Pablo grunted but didn’t make an attempt to bring me any closer.
Boleros were a slow, tight against each other dance.
If there was too much space between you and your partner, you were definitely not doing it right.
But it seemed he was taking some sort of stance.
I had to be the one to put us in the proper position.
When I saw that eyebrow hiked up high on his forehead and that lopsided smile, I gave in.
“Okay, fine.” I had my arms around his neck and was swaying with him after a moment, and I had to admit, it felt nice.
“This has been a good week. I won’t lie, there’s been some sexual frustration and confusion on my end.” He laughed as I eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve been giving off some really unusual vibes Juan Pablo Campos.”
“Nah, I’m just not being my greasy shameless self.” He came to a dead stop on the dance floor, as if whatever he needed to say demanded his complete attention, and mine, too. “These days I’m trying to be more cautious of how I approach things, being a little more careful with the people I love.”
It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it. He was different—contemplative, almost. Paying attention.
Juan Pablo was the youngest and the only boy in his family.
All his cousins were girls so he basically grew up as a prince, and he acted like it.
He could be selfish sometimes. More than once his assumption that the world just had to accommodate to what he wanted had been a source of contention for us.
But the hubris that usually accompanied that seemed to be done now.
The way he carried himself was different.
The line of his shoulders was stronger, and softer at once.
That set to his chin that challenged the world not to give him what he wanted was softer now.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt like this was a Juan Pablo I could almost take another chance on.
“Sorry,” I said with an embarrassed laugh. “I zoned out.”
Without asking me to give more of an explanation, he started moving again. Once we were back in a groove, moving together in unison, he spoke.
“It’s not that deep. I’m just trying.” He didn’t say what for, but he didn’t have to. I knew what he meant.
“We all are.” I sounded tired and just a bit more jaded than I used to, and for the first time, I felt bothered by it.
I wanted to shake that weariness off my voice.
Sound like I used to, purposeful, satisfied.
“I guess the mid-thirties life crisis hits everyone differently; for you it’s been a positive change. ”
As I looked for words for wherever I was going with this conversation, the song stopped and some Latinx pop song came on. I wasn’t in the mood and suddenly the urge to spill my guts to Juan Pablo was almost overpowering.
I took his hand and angled my head to the beach. “I think I may call it a night.” J’s brow dipped in disappointment, but I shook my head and tugged on him. “Do you want to get out of here?”
At any other time this would have been his cue to say something suggestive, to rake his eyes over me, knowing just how to get my blood boiling. Tonight he just pulled me along with him and said, “Let’s go.”